Black Sheep
by dolphinsramazing
Summary: Brennan and Booth got their act together 18 years ago, and had twins Jack and Elena. Raising them particularly Elena is challenge enough, but balancing it with careers,cases that get personal,and other reponsibilities? Life's not always so smooth for BB.


**After an extremely enlightening discussion with "Smartie01" about Brennan and Booth's (inevitable) family, I realized how right they is- that almost all future stories have a Brennan-esque daughter, a genius who wants to follow in her mom's footsteps, but with Booth's charm smile. So I decided to write a story, created from a specific comment they made, about a different type of daughter our dynamic duo might have. Established BB. **

**Thanks Smartie01, even though I'm sure the formation of this story wasn't your intention! **

**Disclaimer- nothing except the OC's- and may I warn you there are a few. **

**~Dolphinsramazing~**

The iPod buds in, my favorite death metal band pulsating in my eardrums, I almost missed the barely audible vibration of my phone beside me. The miniscule front display read "1 New Message", and I nonchalantly flicked the dilapidated object open, an audible squeak as the hinges bent. My current phone was my dad's ancient Razr, and believe me, it's not because my family is lacking any sort of money- in fact, quite the opposite. I wracked my mind for who would be texting me- all my friends usually IMed or Facebooked me. I pressed down hard on the "View" button, and the words slowly appeared on the distorted screen "Come down for dinner. Mom".

I shook my head- my mom was probably the only person in the world who would use proper grammar in a text message. I certainly don't, and my dad is having fun experimenting with the "lingo", as he weirdly calls it. I don't even follow grammar rules when I'm talking normally, and that perturbs my mother to no end. And leave it to her to text me when she could just find me. But I guess that's precious time wasted in this huge mansion of ours.

Bracing myself on the frame of my bed I arose from my purple beanbag chair- the most comfortable thing you'll ever sit in, but nearly impossible to pull your self, dead weight, up from. I walked out into the hallway, and pounded on the door next to mine.

I heard the syncopated clicking of the keyboard from inside my brother's room. Jack's my twin, but we couldn't be more different. I'm more of the free spirit in the family, not exactly focused on school work, not exactly sure what I want to do with my life yet. I got the bad combination of my parents' genes. Not physically- there's no way they could make an ugly kid. More mentally. My mom's…let call it social awkwardness. Basically discomfort around people and no semblance of an idea how to make conversation. And my dad's tendency to anger easily. In no way is he a violent man- he's never struck out and my mom, brother or I. But it doesn't take much to get him mad, and I am angered at even more trivial things than he- the slightest little thing can set me off. He's much less volatile than I- people who don't know him well think him the most mild mannered man they've met.

"Jack!" I screamed, pounding my fist on the door frantically. He probably had some documentary playing in his ears. I turned the knob, and it was locked. He _never_ locks himself in, except when he's really focused on something. One thing my dad did teach me, at a very young age, might I add, is to break down a door. Yes, this is a drastic measure for a brother not answering (probably because he didn't hear) his sister's call, but like I said- frustrated and angered easily. And then I have to hear the whole talking to of how I contribute nothing to this family. Sorry that I'm not perfect like you people.

I took a few large steps away from the door, so I could get a running start. Just as I was about to make contact with the smooth wood, I heard my dad's baritone voice echo in the hallway. "Whoa, Elena, don't do that!" It had that edge it always gets when he talks to me- an air of resignation mixed with some incredulity. I slowly backed away, my head down, trying to avoid the punishment I was likely to get. Truth be told, I would get less of a reprimand now, caught in the act, than I would've if I'd actually gone through with it and broken the door. All works out in the end.

My dad gestured that I step aside, and I gladly did. After slamming his fist against the door a few more time, he threw up his arms in exasperation, and rammed the door with his shoulder, just like I was planning to (though he did it much more smoothly than I would've- years of practice, I guess).

"Hypocrite," I said, almost to myself. He whipped around, saying "What was that?", the ever present questioning look on his face.

"Hypocrite," I said louder. "I was gonna do that!" I adapted a whiny tone for extra effect.

"I know," he said patiently, rolling his eyes. "But this way, you don't get in trouble with Mom," he finished, a boyish look of being caught doing something bad on his lined face.

Good ol' Dad, always looking out for me. I certainly didn't want on the receiving end of Mom's wrath- she could definitely get worked up, and her "super-genius" sense, as my dad calls it, allowed her to concoct the worst possible punishment for each and every offense.

He spun back around, walking over to my brother's desk and computer, and yanking the padded headphones off his ears. "Jack, it's time for dinner." He said informatively, then strode out of the room purposefully, likely to help Mom put dinner on the table.

He straightened his wire frame glasses on his nose and brushed his hands down his immaculate slacks. I, on the other hand, am dressed in a blue paint splatter t-shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, matching sky blue Converse, and of course my usual big costume jewelry. I stood in his doorway, waiting patiently for him to hurry up. I didn't exactly want to go downstairs and see Mom and Dad be all kissy- it's a daily occurrence with them. You would think after eighteen years, the fire would have gone out, or at least toned down, but just the opposite.

Jack filled the air with idle chatter, as usual. I caught the gist of it- something about a new lab partner. When inadvertently dropped the word "she", I futilely tried to stifle a laugh. Jack _never_ talks about girls, and he seemed really animated when talking about this one- Miranda, he said her name is. I wanted to ask more about her, but I didn't know what to say that wouldn't insult him. Talking to my brother is the hardest thing in the world, in my opinion. Despite our biological beginnings, we have absolutely nothing in common.

Thankfully, we reached the kitchen, and he quieted down. Mom and Dad were already seated in their usual positions at our cozy four-top. Mom was adamant when we bought this table that their be no "head", because she knew Dad would want that spot, and she refused to subjugate to him, even in an entirely metaphorical sense. She's somewhat of an extreme feminist, believing that "women can do anything men can do". I mean I like that philosophy too, but it's like her words to live by. Dad said she was even worse when he first met her- he was surprised she was willing to "commit to a monogamous relationship" at all.

We joined hands for our daily grace, another reform of Mom's that Dad constantly refers to. Dad was raised strict Catholic, an altar boy, one of the few constants in his rocky childhood, but Mom was an atheist until about nineteen years ago when Dad's constant lectures about God finally took to her. They were married in a Catholic church, and Mom later officially converted.

Okay, so I know I've been pretty vague about the identities of my family so far, but that's because they're pretty much nationally known, and I don't want to be treated any different because of my parents. It's happened before- use me to get close to the money, to the glory, to the spotlight, because that's where I always am, despite my vehement hatred of it.

My name is Elena Angela Brennan Booth. Brennan's my second middle name- on my birth certificate it's the former part of my hyphenated last name, but when Mom dropped her original name I just added it on, and my brother followed suit. I'm seventeen, and going to enter my senior year in the fall. My parents wanted to send me to the same elite private school that Jack goes to and Parker, my older half-brother, went to. Park's a whole other story, though. I'll get to that later.

It's time to disclose my parents' identities. It seems like I'm making a big deal out of this, but to me it is a big deal. I'm nothing special, the black sheep in a very prodigious family, so I have to have something that distinguishes me from the crowd. It's my lineage. My mom is the world renowned forensic anthropologist and best selling author Dr. Temperance Brennan. She and her team at the Jeffersonian, with the help of the FBI liaison, my father- Special Agent Seeley Booth, have solved hundreds of what seem like unsolvable murders. They first met each other because they were appointed partners by their respective agencies, and both of them tell it that they had an extreme hatred of the other when they first met, Dad hated Mom's superior and condescending attitude, and Mom hated Dad's cockiness. The rest of their story plays out like a twisted fairytale- they spent the next five years slowly falling in love with each other, but denying their feelings and refusing to admit to each other the desire for a less than platonic aspect to their relationship. 

Angela Montenegro-Hodgins, my godmother, tells the story that she was tired of them dancing around each other for five years, and finally decided to take some sort of drastic action. She lured them to a secluded part of the institute, and locked them in an old cleaning closet. Aunt Angie's my mom's best friend, and of no biological relation to me. She's always there for a good girl talk, because despite the leaps and bounds my mom has made, she's still not exactly the type to go get manicures and talk about boys. Aunt Angela's the one person I don't have a problem interacting with- that's probably how my mom felt too.

Of course Sweets, my parents' old psychologist, takes all the credit for them finally taking the next step in their relationship. He claims that one of his mumbo-jumbo psych games got them to admit their feelings, and we allow him to believe it. Sweets has a daughter, Kristen, with his wife, Daisy, who used to be one of my mom's grad students.

So after this escapade in the abandoned wing of the Jeffersonian, my parents dated for about a month or two before my dad proposed. He says it still shocks him that she said yes and married him, but he always underestimates himself. Jack and I were born a year later.

Angela got married to Jack Hodgins (Jack's namesake), her pretty much life long love, a month after my parents' nuptials. Their son, Billy, named after Angela's father, is Jack's best friend, and right up there with the IQ. They also have a five year old daughter, Jenny, who I baby-sit for a lot of the time- I need the money, and I can't handle the lethargy of a fast-food job, and there's not much else to do around here that I would enjoy at all.

My twin, Jack, has got my mom's brains. He's already on his third year of college, and scored one point away from perfect on the SAT's. A lot to be compared to all the time. He's studying to be a forensic pathologist- Mom was _not_ happy when he didn't want to follow precisely in her footsteps. I personally think he's going to change his mind and be an FBI agent like my dad, because of his passion for justice and truth that's rivaled by few. It would be practically illegal if my dad hired him though, because he's the director of the Jeffersonian liaison team, and that would be nepotism. Mom quit her job a few years ago so she can write full time, because writing became her new passion. She consults occasionally on the difficult cases, and aids the forensic anthropologist, Wendell Bray, who was also a former grad student.

Jack's girlfriend is practically a clone of him- she's also at Harvard, and like him, on full scholarship. She's studying to be a microbiologist, and I have no idea when they have time to see each other with their incredibly hectic schedules. I've always thought it's more of a "friends with benefits" thing.

I'm proud to say I have a boyfriend for the first time in my life. His name is Mark, and he's extremely cute. My parents don't particularly like him, however, because he tends to like to wear black, and have a few piercings…you get the picture. I invited him over for dinner, and that's not an event I'd like to repeat- ever. I'm still seeing him, though, against my dad's express wishes, because it's hard for me to get guys and he appreciates me for who I am.

Reality comes back in a rush as I hear my mom addressing me directly, her concerned blue eyes focused on my face. "Elena, are you okay? You haven't eaten anything tonight, and I made your favorite- curry chicken and rice," she said.

I looked down at my entirely full plate, a guilty look on my face as much as I tried to hide it. Like my mom, I don't have the useful skill of being able to lie on cue.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Mom," I deflected. Dad was staring at her like she was the best thing in the world again, and a shy smile appeared on her face.

"What?" she asked innocently.

"Nothing, it's just still so weird to see you…" he said, the patented Booth charm smile accompanying his statement.

"What? As a mother?" she asked angrily.

"No… I always thought you'd be a good mother. Remember Andy?" he asked.

"How could I forget? That was one of my favorite cases _ever_, and that's saying something. He was so cute! Did you ever find out what happened to him?" she asked curiously.

"No, I was worried about other things," he said seductively. They were implementing their expert techniques of excluding the other parties, and my neck was hurting from whipping it back and forth between them. I found their conversation entirely hilarious, if not adorable. I wish I could find someone like Mom did.

"Can I help out with this case?" she asked eagerly, likely planning her revenge if Dad didn't let her assist.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Bones. It's a foster care case." He said delicately, still using that stupid nickname for her.

"You don't think I can handle it?" she challenged him.

"Of course you can," he said quickly. "I just thought it might be a little…sensitive."

"I can handle it, Booth. I'm not a weakling." She said defiantly, falling back into their old bickering pattern.

"You can," he said confidently. "There's a part I didn't tell you- it's one of your old families. So it's a conflict of interest if you work on the case," he said as nonchalantly as he could.

"You're married to me, therefore it's a conflict of interest for you too." She deduced.

"Yeah, probably," he mused out loud. "Should I ask the director to take me off the case?" he said rhetorically.

"No, you'll do a better job than anyone, despite whether your judgment is clouded or not," she purred.

"I think you might be a little biased," he said huskily, their faces almost touching now. They crashed together in a passionate kiss, and Jack and I expertly averted our eyes. Not that we hadn't done that before, but it was kind of awkward to watch your parents.

They withdrew, still looking at each other lustily. I had been absentmindedly shoving food into my mouth, and now my plate was cleared and my taste buds were satisfied. We all put our plates on the counter, as was the norm, and Mom began to clean up.

I jumped when Dad's mouth was suddenly at my ear- his sniper skills hadn't faded over the years. He said quietly in my ear, trying not to draw attention to himself, "I need to talk to you". He walked into the adjoining living room, and I followed him, wondering what he might want to talk to me about. I didn't remember talking back to any of my teachers, or pulling any failing grades, and Mom would be here if it was school related, and Jack would be here if it was family related, so that left personal. Uh oh- he knows about Mark and I. Here goes.

"Elena, I know you're still seeing Mark, and that's not what bothers me the most," he opened, looking me directly in the eye, as was his specialty- up close and personal. I hated anyone too close to me, so I leaned back.

"I did a background check on him," he disclosed. He was out of control! How could he waste the FBI's resources to make sure his daughter's boyfriend was "safe"? When I asked Mom once, she said he used to do all that to her boyfriends too, and that I better get used to it.

"He was in juvie for abuse, Elena. He beat on his girlfriend. Has he done that to you?" This was his element, the interrogation, regardless of the subject upon whom he was performing it.

I hung my head in shame. Yes, he had beaten me once or twice, but he had apologized profusely, and I decided he just had a bad temper and to stay on his good side at all times. "Yes," I muttered, not wanting to know what he was going to do next.

"I was hoping it wasn't going to be true, Lenny. Why didn't you leave him? Why did you take it?" he said desperately, running a hand through his iron gray hair in distress.

"I don't know!" I screamed hysterically. "I have no idea!"

"I have to arrest him, Lenny. There's no choice in the matter. Take me to his house." He said definitively.

"No, Dad," I pleaded, knowing that it wouldn't work. I hadn't inherited Dad's charm at all.

"Get in the SUV," he growled. I walked slowly through the kitchen, hoping Mom or Jack would sense my distress and bail me out. Of course, they were engaged in a deep conversation about kerf marks on bones, and didn't seem to be stopping any time soon. It was amazing to see Mom in her element- she got this glint in her eye, like she could solve any problem that came out her, and she pretty much could.

Dad came up behind me, and pushed me forward to the garage. I hopped in the passenger seat of the massive SUV, and I directed him to Mark's house. Besides the navigation, the ride was completely silent. He was disappointed in me- what a surprise. We pulled up in front of his ranch, and Dad drew his gun.

"Dad, don't shoot him or his family," I warned.

"I won't, Lenny, I promise," he said sincerely. Knocking on the wooden door, he said loudly "FBI! Open up!" His older brother Rob came to the door, his unshaven face and red-rimmed eyes showing…who knows what?

"Special Agent Seeley Booth, FBI. I need to talk to Mark," he said informatively.

"Mark!" Rob shouted. I heard the padding of stairs (Mark lived in the basement), and he arrived at the door.

"Elena!" he said excitedly, not seeing my dad at first. I stepped aside, and my dad adapted his aggressive position- hands on the hips.

"Mr…Mr. Booth?" he asked, obvious fear in his voice.

"You SOB, hurting my daughter. You're under arrest for the abuse of Miss Elena Booth. You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one, one will be provided for you." His voice drained out as he slapped the cuffs on and led Mark out the door. Mark's entire family had gathered in the hallway now, and I shrugged my shoulders and ran out.

Welcome to a day in the life of Elena Booth- not exactly the best in the world.

**Whew! That was a lot of work. Sorry if I screwed up on any of the procedural stuff. This story will continue, and more cases and plot will ensue. As always, review!**

**~Dolphinsramazing~**


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